


quiet thoughts

by cottontale



Category: Free!
Genre: Ballet Dancer!Haru, Ballroom Dancer!Makoto, Fluff, Introspection, M/M, No Dialogue, One Shot, dancer!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 13:08:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1388821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cottontale/pseuds/cottontale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A susurrated breath and movement, a stretching of a hand towards something or someone, then he curls inwards. You suck in a breath at the painted picture before you. The dancer is mourning a loss, but the stroke of apathy in his face keeps you from crying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	quiet thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> a short drabble about falling in love without words.

When you see him, you know you've found your soulmate.

The studio is deserted, all for one ballet dancer. He is in the apex of his session, alone, and mentally counting his rhythm with nods of his head. His knees bend and his thighs press through loose sweat pants, making you swallow and blink a few times. The dancer's feet are flat against the wood, heels pressed together, a perfect position. He is balanced, closing his eyes, moving like poetry off paper. 

A susurrated breath and movement, a stretching of a hand towards something or someone, then he curls inwards. You suck in a breath at the painted picture before you. The dancer is mourning a loss, but the stroke of apathy in his face keeps you from crying. 

You recognize the piano piece, taken from a favorite movie.  _Once Upon a December_ flows from the music dock and into the dancer's bones. You imagine the whimsical piece was composed from the marrow, so smooth, so beautiful, so powerful you cannot look away. 

After a moment of watching the dancer's incredibly powerful body, you remember that you're not supposed to be spying and mentally prepare yourself for the wave of reality to come back. Just watching the routine lulled you into a slumber, a trance, similar to if you were reading a book and the world faded. And the dancer was only practicing. You move away before he can spot you and greedily look around the room for anything that would provide you with a clue to his identity. 

You see a gym bag, but the music slows, the piano ending with a high note. You run away. 

-

You're flattered, but bordering on apprehension. 

You weave through the class, holding onto your partner with practiced ease, so much that you forget she exists. You guide her along, trying to keep your head, to convince yourself that your soulmate isn't following your every step from behind the door. The ballet dancer is watching you and you don't know what to do. Do you catch his eyes? Smile? Nod? 

Woefully unprepared, you fumble a step and your partner crashes to the floor. Your hands slip from her waist and through her fingers. The loud thump and her pained squeak snap you back from your panic. 

Your instructor has you sit out of the lesson, punishment for failing your partner, but you can't bring yourself to mind much. The ballet dancer has not left yet, still staring at you despite you're no longer moving. 

Heat travels up your chest, snaking to your neck, to rest on your cheeks. A clear sign (and red flag), no doubt, that you're a ridiculous idiot. 

-

 _Nocturne_ plays through the speakers, slow to begin, building kindly a rhythm that is breathtaking. You recognize the tune, but you can't place it. All you know is that it speeds your heart and sets your face ablaze. Soon, deeper notes accompany the higher and your heart trips when the dancer leaps, stretching deeply and ever-reaching, before powerfully landing without a sound. 

You open your mouth so wide in delight and awe that your gum tumbles out. You catch it embarrassingly with a small yip and the even breaths of the dancer hitch. 

You know that you're both aware of each other's gaze. He watches you and you watch him, but to actually speak to each other--that's a different chapter all together. 

His face is dusted amaranth and you can't help but love it. Everything he does is beautiful and you're so slow close to spilling over with words and affection, your chest aches. A brightness inside you flares when you finally look at him long enough to know his eye color. A resplendent blue.

And because words simply aren't enough, for you honestly have no idea what to say, you only smile at his visible nervousness and insecurity. 

The music shifts, on a playlist, to _Pure Imagination_  and you can't help your swelling winsome. You invite him to dance with you, a silent conversation between your eyes. He reaches for you and before he can pull away, like in his sorrowful routines, you slip your finger's through his and lead. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was just some practice for me because I got bit by the makoharu bug again. Thank you to everyone who gave me prompts/replies/asks/ideas to help sate my sudden inspiration.
> 
> Also, first time messing with 2nd person. Hurrah.


End file.
